Harvey
by Pat Foley
Summary: After Chris Pike's memorial ceremony leads Kirk and Spock to a post-wake drunken bar brawl, Spock meets an unusual entity.


**Harvey**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 1**

"You'll love this place, Spock," Kirk said when he ran into his officer after the memorial ceremony for Chris Pike. Kirk had already done a bit of condoling with other officers. "Best drinks around."

"I don't drink, Captain."

"Gotta celebrate, Spock," Kirk said, refusing to take no for an answer in typical Kirk fashion, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the nearest bar. "New five year mission. Pike's wake. Gotta send both off with a decent celebration. Gotta."

"Very well," Spock said dubiously, familiar enough with human culture to be aware of the nature of wakes. "I will partake of one drink."

One drink soon led to another. And then another. Kirk mixed too much rye with gin. Then mixed it up with some rival ship's personnel who said unflattering things about the new _Enterprise's_ refit. The gist of their remarks being that far from the swanlike appearance of a typical Constellation class Starship, the new _Enterprise_ resembled more closely an ostrich on anti-gravs. Kirk felt compelled to defend his lady's honor.

Fists flew. Spock, who first attempted to talk Kirk out of the altercation, ended up trying to defend him against a knot of ugly crewman, and engaged in his first bar-room brawl. Drunk and out-numbered as they were, Kirk dropped under a knot of various antagonists. Spock found himself alone and outfisted, even for a Vulcan. While he was attempting to get a neck pinch on one combatant, another cracked a full pitcher of Finnegan's Follies over his head. He saw stars – not real ones – and dropped like a shot.

After Fleet Security came in and cleared out the troublemakers, someone thoughtfully poured cold water over the Vulcan and prodded Kirk awake. They limped outside together. But whereas Spock was reasonably steady on his feet, in spite of his aching head and upset stomach, Kirk had not just a disconcerting tendency to list to sideways, but to drop out of warp entirely. Even his impulse engines were not running on all cylinders.

Between his aching head and the effects of the intoxicants, Spock felt unable to convey him. The Vulcan finally waved down one of the cabs that cruised the bar scene preying on inebriated Fleet officers like sharks, and paid the scalpers' fees to get it to take Kirk home.

"Don't wanna go home," Kirk slurred, barely conscious but still ready for more fun. "Come on, Pointy, let's hit another bar."

"The bars have hit **us** tonight," Spock countered. "And they have won. Take him home," Spock ordered the cabbie and gave him the address of Kirk's Fleetside quarters.

"Yeah, yeah, not the first time I've had drunk Fleet officers in my buggy," the cabbie said, counting the credits with satisfaction. "Get in."

"I prefer to walk," Spock refused, having had quite enough of Jim's company for one evening. "I believe the fresh air is conducive to my recovery."

"Whatever," the cabbie said and took off.

Spock had gone only a few blocks down the street, heading toward his own quarters. He was on Fairfax, the block between Eighteenth and Nineteenth Streets, when a tall being leaning against an external light fixture unexpectedly spoke to him, his drawling voice echoing in the cool night air.

"Good Evening, Commander Spock."

Spock looked across at the entity, trying to place the creature's planet of origin. He wasn't at all surprised the entity knew **him**. After many years serving as an officer, both at the Academy, as student and instructor and in the _Enterprise_, he had come to the awareness that many knew his name.

"Sir," Spock said. "I would not characterize it as _good_. But it has been interesting."

"I may naturally be somewhat mistaken," the creature mused slowly. He was **very **tall, and blindingly white, with a silky soft pelt, and very large ears, "but I believe that Jim Kirk might actually have been a bit **spiffed** this evening."

Spock drew up and regarded the being, trying to place him among the various Federation species. "Indeed, you are not mistaken, sir. I myself have the greatest regard for Captain Kirk."

"Think the world of him," the creature nodded.

"Yes. But he was, as you say," Spock raised a brow in judicious agreement of the creature's apt assessment, "spiffed. A natural consequence of mixing too much rye with gin. He **would** have been with me now. We began the evening together. But I believed he required conveying."

"Still the best captain in the Fleet," the being mused consideringly. "Spiffed or not."

"You have the advantage of me, sir. If you were among the patrons of the establishment we patronized earlier this evening, I somehow failed to notice you," Spock crossed over to speak with him. The creature seemed uninclined to move from his lamp post. Calling across the walkway further seemed rude to Spock.

"I was there. Care to join me for a drink, Commander Spock? The night is young."

"You appear to know my name," Spock noted. Up close the creature was even taller and whiter than he appeared before. "But I do not know yours."

"What name do **you** like?"

Spock rubbed his aching head surreptitiously. The intoxicants were wearing off and the pain from his bruises was subsequently more noticeable. He found himself almost wishing he'd taken Kirk up on his suggestion of another establishment, if a less volatile one. Some nice quiet bar, where he could sooth his aching head with a shot of Romulan Ale. He blinked, surprised at himself for thinking such a foreign thought, and laboriously considered the entity's odd response. It could be that this was one of those beings whose culture dictated they keep personal names private, known only to close associates. "Harvey," was the name Spock finally produced.

"Come join me for a drink. There's a little bar called _Charlie's_. Serves an excellent Romulan Ale," the entity suggested.

Spock looked up into its mesmerizing eyes. "I believe that I will. But you, sir, have not given me your name."

"It's a peculiar coincidence," the being said, leaning forward, the tips of his long ears waving in Spock's face. "The oddest thing. My name just happens to **be** Harvey."

"That is indeed somewhat of a coincidence," Spock thoughtfully agreed.

"Let's have a drink," Harvey urged.

At the creature's gesture, they walked slowly off down Fairfax, arm in arm.

_To be continued..._


End file.
